Keep Calm and Hate the SATs
by wandertogondor
Summary: Elise experiences the five phases of getting through the dreaded SATs with the support of the Winchester brothers. #fuckthesystem


**Phase One: Awareness**

I saw his outline through the gaps in the trees. He'd always wait for me with his hands shoved into his pockets.

My shoulders ached even as I walked with the slew of textbooks I had jammed into my backpack. It was frustrating. A god-awful price to pay for a half-assed excuse for education.

School wasn't fun and it wasn't fair. It's all about rules and memorizing and scores. It wasn't about learning. It wasn't about enriching and feeding knowledge. Not anymore. It was frustrating and unfair and I had a scowl on my face the entire bus ride just fuming about such negligence.

But as I got closer and closer to the strip of trees that inclined up to where Dean stood waiting, a smile extended across the span of my facial features.

"How was school?" He asked.

"Great!"

Wait, wasn't I mad about something?

He held out one hand, gesturing to my backpack. I readily handed it to him and stalked toward the entrance of the bunker, asking,

"How was your day?"

"Eh," he brushed off, shrugging his shoulders under the canvas jacket, "it's been slow. We haven't made a dent in the research."

"I can help!"

Crap. That was too quick. Too interested.

Dean gave me a sidelong look, adjusting my bag higher on his shoulder. "Don't you have, like, a standardized test to study for?"

My stomach dropped. "Yeah, but...those tests are rigged!"

He threw one of his hopeful smiles my way. One of those smiles that made me feel like I could take on the whole world and achieve my dreams and more. I waved him and his smile off because I knew better than to get my hopes up. Pushing against the door of the bunker, the homely smell embraced me rather than the other way around.

I didn't have anything to worry about when I was in the bunker. No school. No stress. Just Sam and Dean and me.

"Hey." Sam greeted with a quick smile before cracking open a book over the illuminated map of the world. "What's new?"

He appeared bigger perched on a bar-stool.

"Well," I began, leaning against the map on the opposite side from him, "since you asked - "

His poorly executed attempt to hide his smirk didn't escape unnoticed.

I continued nonetheless, "The American Education System is so flawed, big brother _literally _has his head stuck down the crapper. As if _that_ wasn't enough," I rolled my eyes. "their fake hair's been clogging up a toilet that's already been blown to shit."

"That," Sam barked out a laugh, "was wild from start to finish."

"I'm serious, Sam! It's annoying how my intelligence and self-worth is determined by an unfair test that's solely accommodated toward 'good-test takers'. Like, what the hell does that even mean?!"

Sam used his finger as a bookmark and closed the book to look up. "I get it, kid. I really do."

"Easy for you to say." _Yeah_, easy for you to say, Mr. Stanford. "You've always been smart and good at everything you do. You're the full nine yards, Sam. You got the smarts, the looks, and everything in between."

"On the bright side," Dean threw in from the library, "you're the only one between the three of that can lick your elbow. That's an accomplishment worth ten merits. If all else fails we'll pay you to play bait."

Sam furrowed his eyebrows and scrunched his face up indignantly. "No, shut up, Dean. Look, kid, you've got more things going for you than I ever did. You can accomplish whatever the hell you want without a standard score."

"Where I'm going," I lamented, "I'll get a pat on the back for showing up and gutting through but I won't be respected for it."

Sam exhaled through his nose with worry. He leaned over the map to kiss the top of my head in consolation. "You've got us."

**Phase Two: Denial**

"I can't do it!" Elise nearly screamed, throwing down her number two pencil. "I keep getting everything wrong. I'm so stupid."

It was another outbreak. Tears of frustration rained down her face and at that moment, Elise wanted to pick up her chair and throw it against the wall.

She wanted to watch it splinter and fall apart - limb from limb, grove from grove. She wanted to be in control of her own actions and her own plans for her future.

"I can't do this! I'm going to fail! No amount of praying is going to help me because I'm just too stupid and too faithless to go anywhere. I'd rather just kill myself."

Dean was on his feet and advancing out of his room towards her having heard that last part. He enveloped her in his arms. And, though she fought back weakly, he held her close.

**Phase Three: Depression**

It was ten in the morning. Saturday.

Elise wanted nothing more than to lean over her bowl of cereal in peace. Her shoulder felt heavy and her eyes were falling closed.

"What's gotten into you?" Dean inquired a bit more harshly than he had originally intended. "Come on, Elise. Bite."

Some switch in her turned on. Elise was hungry but didn't want to eat. She was sleepy but didn't want to sleep. She was exhausted but didn't want to spare a break. She was trapped but couldn't escape.

So, she rolled her eyes in response to Dean's annoying fragments of concern, dropping her spoon loudly into the bowl. "What, Dean?"

"What me?" He retorted like he was surprised. "What you! What's up with you? You sulking? You depressed?"

Sam shot his older brother a warning look as if to say _you're going too far. Reel it back._

Elise composed herself and tried her hardest not to snarl. "I'm tired, Dean."

"Then sleep."

"I can't."

Dean leaned back in the chair, hands hanging off the armrest of the chair. "You're just hungry."

"I'm not hungry," was her response. She looked down at the bowl of cereal disdainfully and pushed it away from herself.

**Phase Four: Intervention**

"What seems to be the problem?" The doctor was sitting at his desk in his white lab coat, hands folded on top of the desktop.

"Yeah, this one," Dean made a weak gesture to me, "she's got a potty mouth on her. And a comfort level when it comes to killing. I mean, you should see how she uses salt and a lighter on these poor slugs for her own amusement."

"It's terrible." I threw in monotonously and wound my arms tightly against my chest.

This was NOT my idea. I was in and out. Sam and Dean would take care of the job. I was just a convenient prop. Not that I had any problem with staying out of their way. I was just glad that school was over just in time for the M*A*S*H reruns on MeTV.

The doctor was looking between the three of us with an incredible poker face. His eyes often buffered on me for a few seconds under his bushy grey eyebrows. I was sitting snug between the ginormous Winchester's. My body was poised and smug but I'm sure my face read _kill me_.

"And how do _you_ feel about this intervention, Elise?" The doctor had his fist propped under his chin, just waiting for my answer.

"You want an honest answer?" I asked.

That idiot just nodded and smiled so I decided to humor him.

"Well, good," I declared and moved forward in the chair. "I wasn't plannin' on leavin' nothin' out. This idiot," I thrust my thumb towards Sam, "started the freakin' apocalypse because his demon girlfriend had him drink her blood. And this other idiot," Dean cringed in pain when I slapped his knee. "he died more times than I can count. He popped back up outta hell a couple of months ago because an angel pulled him out. It's like watching a chick-flick that I didn't pay for between them. Too many heart eyes. And I feel," I rung my hands in the air and raised my voice for added effect, "like I'm in the middle of this crap even though I'm the youngest." Where the hell is this coming from? This wasn't in the script! "I feel like I'm not good enough for heaven or hell so I'm just stuck grounded on earth like a loser."

Be cool.

Be Cool.

BE COOL.

"This angel," The doctor prodded, "he's - ?"

"His name is Castiel…and he wears a tan trench-coat. Very exclusive." How are these words coming out of my mouth right now? What am I doing? Oh crap, Dean's moving. I bet he's looking at Sam right now. Forcing on a smile, I threw the doctor an over-exaggerated wink and decided to shut my mouth before I said anything else that I'd regret. I'd been holding my breath from panic for twenty seconds before Dean interrupted.

"As you see, doc," Thank you, Dean! Oh. Lord God, thank you for Dean. "she's real beat up." He started rubbing soothing circles on my back, feigning an innocent smile. "So can you fix her up so we can get back to travelling around the country and offering her virgin blood to Lucifer?"

I slammed the heel of my foot as hard as I could on Dean's foot but his smile was plastered on good. "I think it's my big brothers who need help, doc. I can't be admitted here," I began with a pretentious laugh, "I have to take my SATs this weekend."

**Phase 5: Recovery**

"Hey, kiddo." Dean shifted the shopping bag from one hand to the other so he could close the main door to the Bunker.

Elise was sprawled face down on the floor of the war-room with no indication of getting up anytime soon. She could feel Dean walking down the steps in his slow pace. The vibrations on the ground were quite clear against her ear.

"I'm feeling better." She woodenly declared.

He had placed the shopping bag on the table, shed his coat, and laid down on his back beside her. "Oh, yeah?"

Elise nodded slightly. Her ear was numb from being pressed against the hard ground for over an hour and it hurt to move her head anymore. "Yup."

"So, what happened to you these last few days while Sam and I were in the cuckoo's nest?Did good on the SATs?"

She didn't reply.

"Hey, Elise. Bite. Come on. You checked out. Why?"

"Stress."

"Oh."

"Thanks for being patient with me." She turned over on her back, completely absorbed in staring up at the ceiling. Like it had had all the answers the entire time.

Dean turned his head to look at Elise and smiled, tossing one arm around her shoulder and pulling her across the floor closer beside him. "I am so glad it's over. Nice to have you back."

* * *

**Author's Note: ****Strive to do what you love! Numbers DO NOT determine your intelligence or self-worth or success!**


End file.
